


Gone gone gone

by Sothishappened



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Changes, Rating May Change, Rating more for later and language, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, also it's kinda a safe haven au?, and may change, this is my first fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sothishappened/pseuds/Sothishappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke was running. She didn't know where to, and right then she didn't care. She just needed to be away.</p><p>Aka this is sorta vaguely a safe haven au but not exactly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke was running. She didn't know where to, and right then she didn't care. She just needed to be away. Away from her mother, smothering her, forcing her through medical school because she showed "promise," even if she didn't have the passion. Away from the familiar streets where every intersection reminded her of Wells. Away from the pity, poor Clarke, Abby's daughter has suffered so much, too young to be dealing with this much, too young to lose her dad, her best friend, her sanity. Most of all she needed away from him. Finn. He knew how much she needed someone to lean on he knew just how fragile Clarke could be. She had trusted him, and to find him in bed with another, well if Clarke hadn't been broken before she could sure as hell be considered crushed into nothing by now. It was just another dull blow to her already shattered heart when she learned that she had never really been Finn's one and only. He had been in a long distance relationship with a long term girlfriend. Well, it was the last straw.  
She left under the cover of darkness, without warning, frantically tossing random clothing into a bag, a few pictures, a water bottle for the road. Without a second thought or a glance behind her, she jumped into the 1972 Chevy Chevelle that had once been her fathers prized possession, and she drove away into the night, one hand reaching up to clutch the tiny charm that hung around her neck, in the shape of a black knight chess piece. 

Clarke had been on the road for almost three hours before she glanced at the clock, reading 4:26am. She chanced a glance upon the fuel gage and was startled to see how low her tank was running. Pretty close to how she felt physically, she thought wryly, pulling to off the highway and into a 24 hour rest stop. She bought gas and a stale sandwich from the rest stop, and returned to her car, locking the doors. I'll just rest my eyes, she thought, only 15 minutes. It was 7:37am when her eyes fluttered open.  
She cursed when she saw the clock, realizing her mother might soon start to wonder why she hadn't called this morning. Luckily, she had the night shift at the hospital, so he had hours before her coworkers noticed anything was amiss. She glanced at her phone, dead in the passenger seat. It was probably better off that way, she thought, knowing she was just going to ignore the messages. Right now, the only people from her past she actually wanted to talk to were both painfully unavailable. Besides, considering the tumultuous relationship she shared with her mother, her absence might not even be noticed until her shift started at 7 anyway.

Days passed. Clarke drove. She fled the only home she'd ever known in Portland, for hours each day she left her past behind her. Finally she passed a small "Welcome to Maine" sign, and decided she had come far enough. As she neared the coast, she got off at an exit she hardly noticed. She drove aimlessly on back roads for another 30 minutes before finding herself outside a small bed and breakfast, the cozy sort of place you would expect to find young couples, not lost souls who hadn't even been paying enough attention to know what town she was in. Clarke sighed, exiting her car and grabbing her over night bag, before stretching and entering the building.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke eats breakfast... Or doesn't

Clarke woke the next morning tangled in the quilts of the queen size bed in her room at the tiny bed and breakfast, which she had learned was called The Dropship. An interesting name for a bed and breakfast, she supposed, but fitting considering the late hour she had just dropped in. She was lucky the owner, or manager, or whomever the dark haired woman who had given her a room key, was even still awake. Clarke glanced at the clock, which read 9:30. She had noted a sign the previous night that had mentioned breakfast would be served from 8-11, so she was unconcerned about missing a meal. Regardless, she got dressed quickly before opening her door and heading into the hall and out to the dining area.

________________________________________________________________________

Octavia normally wouldn't have stayed up so late at The Dropship. She usually closed shop by a reasonable hour, but last night something had kept her. Perhaps it was just that she was annoyed at her brother and didn't want to return upstairs to the apartment they shared, or maybe she just liked the peacefulness of the night. Whatever it was, she had not at all expected another guest to stumble in at half past 2 while she was filling out the guest logs of the past month. 

The poor woman looked bedraggled and exhausted, long blond hair loosely pulled back in a messy ponytail, clothes crumpled from what had clearly been a long drive. Octavia quickly checked her in, with none of the usual friendly chatter she reserved for guests that looked like they had an interesting story. Octavia went to bed soon after that.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

Clarke was surprised by the ammount of people in the dining area. Upon a closer inspection, the large room looked to be more of a café than a typical bed and breakfast common room. She decided it made sense, as the money made from guests alone probably didn't support the place, which was somewhat off the grid. 

Clarke walked over the the counter, where a tall man appeared to be serving food.

"You can just sit down I'll be right over," he called to her. Clarke sat uncomfortably at the nearest empty table, tapping her fingers and looking around warily. It had been a while since she had been around this many people, and she wasn't sure if she had ever in her life been surrounded by this many complete strangers. Even in school she had usually known a least one classmate prior to the lecture. Being the daughter of a well known neurosurgeon in a pre-med program tended to help with that.

The man walked over with a mug and placed it in front of her, with a small pitcher of cream and a few packets of sugar.

"You don't look like the decaf type," he said with a slight smirk. Clarke gave him a half smile and noted that he was rather attractive, with dark, messy curls and a mess of freckles.

Before she could thank him, he placed a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage in front of her. 

Clarke's entire demeanor changed when she saw the eggs. She stiffened in her chair and looked visibly upset. The server looked concerned, and was about to ask her if she was okay.

"Get them away from me." Clarke all but snarled.  
_________________________________________________________________________

Bellamy was annoyed by the pretty blond before him. He rarely tried to make conversation with his guests, and here she was being completely rude. He looked closer at her, and noticed the expensive looking watch on her wrist. He never did trust people with that much money. It made them selfish.

"Fine princess" he said mockingly, snatching the plate away and stalking off.

_________________________________________________________________________

Clarke sighed, knowing she had been unfair. She didn't mean to sound so bitchy, but she couldn't help it. Funny how a simple food could bring back so many memories.

She remembered how her and her dad had used to scramble eggs together on Sunday mornings. Jake Griffin had died in a car crash a few years before. Answering a phone call. From his wife. Clarke's mother. Clarke could never reconcile this fact. Her mother had known he was driving home from the art exhibition. Abby Griffin still tried to call him. He still lost control of the car.

Clarke never truly talked to her mom after that. And after Wells they just drifted separate ways. Abby threw herself into her work, allowing no time to grieve, and Clarke was alone again.

With one more upset glance in the direction of the dark haired stranger who had ruined her day, Clarke jumped up from the table and returned to her room, electing to sleep a few more hours before facing anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke calls home

Clarke awoke feeling slightly guilty for her outburst at the waiter. Then again, who was he to judge her? She could very well be allergic to the smell of scrambled eggs. She could have died. Clarke knew this was ridiculous but it made her feel better all the same.

She got out of bed for the second time that day and realized it was long past time she at least called someone to tell them she was ok. She warily turned on her phone and prepared for the texts, calls, and emails that her coworkers had sent. She decided it would be best to deal with them first, and debated whether or not to even call her mother.

Clarke called her boss, Anya, a stern woman who had never taken crap from anyone at the hospital. Having dropped out of med school, Clarke only worked there as a part time art teacher, often working with terminal and long-term residents of the hospital, living mostly off of her trust fund. 

Anya was initially worried and angry that Clarke had taken so long to call, as it had been a week and she had missed both Tuesday and Thursday without warning. Her tone faded into exasperation and resignation as Clarke simply explained that she had moved, and had to quit. She didn't offer any other explanation and asked her to pass it along to the nurses at the hospital, some of whom Clarke considered herself to be at least somewhat friendly with.

Next, Clarke called Raven, the only person Clarke would really miss from Las Angeles. Their friendship was short lived and bizarre, having come from being cheated on by the same man. Clarke's only regret in her sudden move was that she probably would never really get to know Raven now.

"You need to call your mom I'm the only thing convincing her not to call the cops. Also, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Raven screamed into the phone. 

"Maine?" Clarke responded meekly, "Please don't let my mom call the cops and don't tell her where I am I'm staying here and I know she'll try to come get me or something Raven please I need to just be away" she continued to ramble until Raven cut her off.

"Relax. I'm not gonna tattle tale to mommy. I of all people get it" she paused "I was thinking about moving too. Bit less extremely, but I need to get a fresh start someplace. I hardly knew a life before... Nevermind. But you have to call your mother. You don't have to tell her where you are, but at least tell her you are ok. She's driving me off my rocker."

"Fine, okay." Clarke took a deep breath "I'll do it now.... Goodbye, Raven."

"Bye, Clarke. Call sometime okay? Don't be a stranger. You're one of the few people I don't actually hate." Raven ended the call.

Feeling considerably more relaxed, Clarke sat down again on the bed. Putting off calling her mother, Clarke finally looked at the room she had rented for the week, having finally decided to just stop for a while. 

The room was small, but had a worn, homey feel. The furniture consisted of a bed, dresser, side table, and an armchair, all made of pine. The cushioning on the chair matched the pillows on the bed, which was adorned with a flowery quilt. Lacy curtains hung in the window. All put together, the room had a vibe that was not quite old fashioned, but thoroughly outdated. Clarke liked it. She herself had always grown up with the most modern and trendy room decorations, modifications taking place quite frequently. Even her apartment had been decorated with style, at her mothers insistence.

This though brought Clarke back to reality and the task at hand. She picked up her phone, and clutched her necklace, pressing Abby wouldn't answer. Voicemail's were easier. Then again, since when did Clarke do easy?

"Clarke, sweetheart, is that you? I'm so glad your okay where are you? I'll come pick you up what happened? Were you mad at Finn? He wants to make it up to you you know." Clarke was annoyed that her mom even mentioned Finn. She only knew about him because she worked with Raven when an engineer was needed for certain prosthetics. And here she was trying to set him up with Clarke again. After he betrayed them both. Clarke cut her off.

"Mom I'm just calling to let you know I'm okay. I'm not coming back, that's not home anymore. Hasn't been for a while. Goodbye." Clarke hung up the phone, and noticed how tightly she was squeezing the tiny chess piece at her neck. She smiled wistfully at the memory of the day Wells gave it to her.

They were about 13, and he had been teaching her to play chess on a mini chess board. The knight was the first, and only, of his pieces that Clarke managed to take before he quickly dominated her and called "check mate." Clarke was annoyed at her lack of skill, and he had just laughed, promising to practice with her. The piece happened to have a tiny hole in it, which Wells strung a thin band of leather through and gave it to her as a bit of a gag gift. Somehow Clarke ended up wearing it even up until this day, squeezing it tightly when she needed courage, like Wells. He had died as he lived: He was stabbed in an alley trying to stop a mugger. Clarke had been in a night lecture with her phone off, and she didn't make it to the hospital until it was too late. She quit medschool a week later. Six months after that she met Finn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be a super slow burn sorta thing... Also I think I like including Raven I might find a way for her to be a little bit more involved
> 
> Hopefully I will be able to update reasonably I'll try my best

**Author's Note:**

> Um feedback would be helpful... Not at all experienced at this but you gotta start somewhere
> 
>  
> 
> So it appears I'm also changing POV so yeah hopefully that's not too confusing


End file.
